The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1887-03-15
A Nuns Revenge.

The world" had not known Sister
Loretto since she was q blooming,
bright-eyed girl OF eighteen. At thirty.
eight little remained OF the once lovely
face. The rich coloring had flown
from it long ago, leaving in its stead
an almost death-like Wilderness. The
large eyes were still wonderfully ex-
pressive, but the fire had gone out OF
them forever.
The first few years OF her convent
experience indeed had been different,
but none had ever known it save Sis.
ter l.oretto herself. Many were the
nights she had lain awake in her
small, uncarpeted "cell" and sobbed
like a child (she had been little more
than one when she entered the clois-
teri until the dawn came stealing in
at the window and the chapel bell
rang out in the morning stiffness. "Oh,
have made mistake" she would
cry again and again in the privacy and
quietude OF her own "cell." 81 might
have been less unhappy rs n sister OF
mercy or q sister OF charity, where |
was doing some good-where | was
helping some one! But this slut-in
life, that is to 90 on forever, kills mel
l have too much time to think-too
much time to think"
All, how happy she had been So
happy that she had pitied every one
else in the world. She knew no one
could ever have been quite so happy.
Had he not called her 'Ruth?" Had
he not told herhow much he loved her
how she had quite stolen his heart
away in that one brief summer sea-
son, with her great, dark eyesY And
then had he not kissed her, and held
her in his arms out there in that still
little garden, with the moon shining
down upon them through the young
NAPLES and horse chestnuts? In
that soft yellow light the girl had
looked up into Dallas Wilmarth's face
in such q childish, rapturous way that
the young mans heart following that
he had one) suddenly smote hun.
The little fool, he said to himself,
was really in love with him. Why did
she look at him in that stupid way?
Had she really believed every foolish
word he had spoken? Other girls,
to whom he had spoken pretty
much the same thing, had not looked
like that. 1t was true he had gone
rather farther this time-farther than
he had intended doing at the begin
ming, but the moonlight, the sweet,
honeysuckled scented air, the pretty
girl in her pretty hat, had all conspir'
ed against him.
Well, it was not too late to retrace
his steps. He must make haste, how
ever. Ruth was very lovely, and Will
marth really cared for her-as much
as he was capable OF doing.
He was not in a position to marry
a poor girl. She would ouly drag him
down, he argued; and he had q name
to make, and talents that must not
be buried in foolish marriage. If
Ruth only had the requisite money!
1t was pity she had not.
Wilmarth frowned slightly.
"What is it? Something annoys
YOU" Ruth said, quickly.
The young man hesitated a moment.
Then-the sooner the thing was over
the better, he decided.
al fear have said rather more
than ought to, Ruth" he began; but
his customary hardihood forsook
him little. and his voice was not al
together as firm and assured as he
would have wished it.
"Have SAID more than you ought
tor" Ruth repeated, wonderingly.
"Yes; / have been too impulsive;
that has always been my failing. /
could not resist telling you that love
you, and-and now-to-morrow-l
must leave you," he stammered forth.
"Leave me?" she cried, incredulous-
ly.
Wilmarth heard the tone and frown-
ed again-this time patiently.
"Yes. | am going away" he said.
The girl turned on HIM in sudden
fear.
"You do not mean it, she asserted.
quickly. "You told me you would be
here the rest OF the summer"
But / do mean i'll must go,
Ruth; have stayed too long as it is"
exclaimed the young man.
"And when will you come back"
al don't know; | can't say. don't
think l can ever come back" lie
managed to say this with difficulty,
and he turned a little away. lie could
not bear to meet those miserable
eyes.
"And you dared tell me you loved
me when you knew you were going
away never to return?" cried the girl
raseionatelv